


White Foxes

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: RWBY
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/F, Master/Pet, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the collar was on, she belonged to Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Foxes

It began with the ears.

Or more precisely, it began with a collar, the symbol that solidified a long-standing agreement between them. Before they had started having sex, Weiss had been aware of her teammate’s predilections as early as their second year of Beacon, but it wasn’t until they were together that she ever dared to experiment on a personal level. Where Blake sought out all the terms and techniques, she possessed a raw desire and yearning, and it took fusing those aspects to shape the relationship into something that satisfied them both. The Faunus was a vigorous study — in many senses, even after they graduated — and slowly their initial fumblings with knots and titles, pleasure and pain, evolved into a formal arrangement.

When the collar was on, she belonged to Blake. Her name only held the weight Blake chose to give it; always  _Weiss_ , never a Schnee or a corporate executive, not even the badge of respect given to a huntress, just her singular self stripped down to a heavy syllable, often interspersed with affectionate diminutives and harsher epithets, when the circumstances called for it. Responsibility was boiled down to her safeword and limits, the burden of decisions made kept within the confines of the room they were in. Privacy, relief, and solace came from the dark hands that seized around her throat with as much care and discipline as they wielded Gambol Shroud, making her feel more or less according to whichever whim took hold.

A need for _more_  was why Weiss had taken these steps, found a way to express the tension she felt building inside. It happened over coffee, her collar off. While the violet leather circlet was never worn in public, she had standing instructions to keep it tucked in the zippered pocket of her purse in case circumstances led to it being required.

Despite the restraint being absent, Weiss had any other number of ways to call to mind the positions Blake put her in the night before, written as it was in the bitemarks that decorated each shoulder, the thin red stripes weaving a lattice up her back, all concealed by a conservative white dress. The media noted it during their bottom-feeding every once in a while; some articles called her style ‘classic’ where others took jabs at her presumed frigidity, emphasized by the lack of a ring on the telling finger. Little did they know.

“If it’s what you want,” Blake interrupted the private musing by typing something onto the scroll that lay between their cups of espresso, “then get everything on this list. The specific details are up to you, but I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Amusement and affection shone with equal measure in golden eyes as Weiss turned the screen at an angle where it could be read. The Faunus enjoyed sending her on shopping trips, although it had taken some time to determine the exact reasons why. Blake had plenty of money from a successful hunting career — as well as a fair share of scars — but allowing her to have control of the purchases was both a freedom and a test. There were few activities that forced Weiss to confront her desires so deliberately; when the initial jolt of embarrassment faded over purchasing the accoutrements for their activities, even if it was over a secure connection with a very discreet vendor, the fact remained that everything that was eventually on, around, or inside her was the result of a choice she had made, down to the most exacting specifications.

Thus, the ears. If she was going to pay the butcher’s bill, there was no reason not to indulge, and a very helpful clerk had allowed her to pass on a carefully cropped picture, ensuring that they were dyed to the exact shade of her hair. The same was done with the tail, although Blake had noted they wouldn’t be using it until later. Weiss had done her best to see that the synthetic fur felt like the real thing, giving what amounted to a lecture over an email about texture and reactive properties, delaying the other half of the details until the very last moment, where she was asked with the utmost politeness what size she wanted the attached plug to be. At least Blake hadn’t been there to see her blush and fuss, absent for the week thanks to a clutch of Nevermore out in eastern Vale.

It had nothing to do with being a Faunus. That was a line neither of them wished to dally with, not after Weiss had spent so long lancing the old wounds Blake carried from the White Fang, from the company she now led, dictating a shift in policy that would have made her father roll in his grave, if he wasn’t currently retired on an island in the middle of nowhere and essentially ignoring the rest of the world. Still, there was something to be said about the similarity of appearance and aesthetics, the submission Weiss associated with being decorated and collared, and rather than shy away, the two of them confronted it together, and it roused a fire in Blake that she craved.

If she was disappointed with the reaction that came when she was first adorned, having spent at least half an hour purposefully adjusting the clear headband so it was not only comfortable but nigh invisible under her hair, that changed the moment she realized the game at hand. Weiss had jumped in surprise when Blake’s fingers brushed across the ears; there was no sensation from them specifically, but the contact put a pressure against her head she wasn’t used to. The night passed as such until idle caresses and the scrape of nails down the back of her neck became a rough session mostly spent on her knees, and honest shock came after when the ears removed and set aside; Weiss had forgotten the tension of the band was even there.

From that point, they worked up to the tail, which came with its own set of challenges. Laying in Blake’s lap, Weiss was soothed by the caresses over the ears and the bare skin of her back as the Faunus read a book, only to fight not to squirm when the touch ventured lower and dark fingers toyed with soft fur. She couldn’t help but clench tight, wanting to whimper, but silence was enforced whenever Blake was reading or otherwise occupied, unless she wanted to utter her safeword over a hint of bashfulness. It only became more frustrating on the nights she felt the leather straps of the harness under the Faunus’ trousers, worst most of all when her cheek nudged against the toy trapped beneath the confines of the zipper, offering both promise and possibility.

Only when she relaxed completely into her place, mind drifting into a comfortable haze, did the reward come, provided there was no need to punish a failed attempt to keep quiet. Weiss never thought Blake was cruel, only strict, and it was in that space she learned to let technicalities and almost-truths go; there was no chastising she didn’t submit to willingly, always seeking to become even better rather than resist the firm adjustment.

If it was any other frame of circumstance, Weiss would have balked without question, having fought tooth and nail over the years to obtain her independence and salvage her pride, but Blake knew better than anyone what it was like to be vulnerable in plain sight, the pain of deliberate change, and it only made their bond stronger.

No matter how many times they tried, though, she couldn’t seem to flip the switch that made her speak when noise was allowed but words were not. It irked Weiss on every occasion, and although Blake clearly found the instinct to moan both name and title endearing, it still transgressed against the rules set and she often found herself sore as a consequence, grateful for the thick cushioning of the chair reserved for her in the SDC boardroom on the days that followed.

When amusement faded into legitimate frustration, Weiss was given the timely present of a gag, although the design had its own humbling aspects; while the thick ball of rubber broke her words into meaningless syllables, saliva was usually dripping past her chin at the end of a session, burning away whatever shreds of dignity she convinced herself were left.

“It brings out your eyes, Weiss,” Blake teased, giving one of the taut straps across her cheek a tug, “don’t you think?”

There was no reply she could offer but a whine; the Faunus had been quick to figure out that some of the lower grunts around the gag were curses, and a smart mouth was never tolerated, even if Blake didn’t know exactly what was said. So did their complicated ritual and exchange build on itself, each element added with care until Weiss could check off the entire list she had been presented with, even if she hadn’t originally been able to picture the scenario as a whole. She knew better now, pushed down onto the floor and all too aware of the carpet abrading her knees, spread apart by calloused hands before the skirt — short enough to be immodest when she stood — was shoved up around her hips to expose the pale fur of the tail, its plug set deep inside.

Weiss’ teeth caught against hard rubber as she was inspected, found wet and wanting when two of Blake’s fingers gave a preemptive thrust. With speech stifled and both arms cuffed behind her back, her safeword had been sublimated into the red silk ribbon currently held in her fingers; if it was ever let go of, even by accident, the Faunus would immediately stop, remove the gag, and ask if she wanted to continue. With that in mind, Weiss was holding it so tightly her nails were biting into her palms, not wanting to give Blake a single reason to hesitate. This had been on her mind all day, carrying her through any number of irritants and frustrations.

“I told you to relax for me,” the fingers inside her curled, Blake’s tone equal parts warmth and hunger, “but you’re not doing a very good job.”

Would it that she could swear the way she tightened was adrenaline-born anticipation rather than fear or an intent to fight back, but Weiss was given no voice save for the ability to moan, hoping the sound would be taken as encouragement. Her mind was racing, replaying the hours she had spent surrounded by reporters today, deflecting their questions only have to illustrate the blunt, cold truth to engineers and accountants in a private meeting after, exchanging one mask for another.

The images stuttered when Blake’s hand withdrew, replaced by the head of the strap-on against her folds, lubricant and her own arousal leaving the silicone perfectly slick, but not yet pushing inside. When the same fingers that had stretched her began to toy with the tail, Weiss’ eyes squeezed shut, brow pressing against the floor as if lowering her head would offer any relief from a hammering pulse, the bitter tension along the length of her spine, praying that she had behaved well enough that Blake would get on with it, make her the creature that begged and—

Every thought went out of her head as the full shaft of the toy slid into her with one smooth movement. Weiss’ startled cry was muffled, fingers gripping the ribbon for dear life when her hips were pulled up into a sharper angle and Blake began a fast, merciless rhythm. This was just the warmup, the rough pace giving weight to the steel trapping her wrists, the binding around her head from the gag and ears, but more than anything, the perpetual shift of the tail, fur brushing over the backs of one thigh or the other whenever it was batted out of the way.

“Louder, Weiss.” The Faunus growled, a firm slap to the curve of her ass provoking a shiver from head to toe. “You don’t get fucked if you don’t participate.”

It wasn’t fair, not when the sounds she made were inherently muted, tongue kept locked in her mouth by the unyielding embrace of leather, but Weiss never let slanted odds prevent success. Arching her back and moaning, she let the wanton volume rise in her throat just as Blake demanded. When that wasn’t enough to satisfy, whimpers and more desperate noises started to escape, hips rocking against each hard thrust with what little leverage she had from this position, until she wasn’t even trying anymore. There was no need for effort when Weiss couldn’t stop herself, hitting the higher notes that made the Faunus behind her rumble with pleased laughter, keeping control where she had absolutely none.

Finally one hand pressed between trembling thighs, seeking out the slick swell of her clit, but the game wouldn’t end there, not without a struggle. The touch was present and yet never quite enough, edging her towards orgasm only to vanish for the vital seconds when she dared too close. Blake had long since memorized her tells, playing over every last nerve until she was wound up so tight it was unbearable. Weiss choked back a sob, everything blotted out but the constant throb of need, damning her heart for not beating faster, to make her blood pulse quickly enough to overcome this sweet, irreplaceable torment.

“ _Now_ _,_  Weiss.”

It was a particularly deep thrust joined with the Faunus’ moan that snapped Weiss over the edge, fingers cupped against her clit to keep the instinctive jerk and shudder of her hips from breaking contact. Bliss was too narrow a word when she  _let go_ , casting off everything except surrender, shoulders and back sagging as she saw the world around her blur. Everything spun out into a mess of color and sensation, indistinguishable from one another when agony and ecstasy existed in the same space, making her nerves sing before it all collapsed.

Weiss knew that for some people, the notion of being forced out of one’s own head brought nothing but terror, but the disconnected moments after something so intense, free from her skin and yet so completely grounded, were some of the only times she felt peace.

She was untouchable as vulnerability drained away like blood, cleansed despite the state of her body starting to reassert itself, offering reminders in the form of sweat gathered in the sharp angle of her shoulder blades, hair sticking to one cheek, faint aftershocks of pleasure connecting her nerves back to the rhythm of breath, in and out. Her lungs burned, fingers stiff from holding onto the length of red silk, which she let slip free with a fraction of reluctance.

There was a soft clink of metal as Blake leaned forward to unbuckle the gag, taking a moment to rub the expected soreness from her jaw. “Do you need a break?”

“Five minutes.” Weiss gasped, the breathless sound becoming a sigh of relief when the Faunus lay flush against her back, whatever primal impulses that fired in her mind after release finding the weight comforting. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Black hair fell around her like a curtain when Blake’s head tilted down, lips brushing over one ear. “Little fox.”

Some day that wouldn’t make her blush. They could work on it.


End file.
